


So Who You've Been Calling Baby? (Nobody Can Take My Place)

by aruhime



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fingering, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Jealous Enjolras, M/M, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 07:57:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19102936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aruhime/pseuds/aruhime
Summary: Grantaire had this habit to call everyone with thoughtless, endearing pet names. He would accidentally say “thank you, sweetie,” to Cosette when she lend her pencil; or “I love you so much, Courf, you are my sunshine and my life-saver,” when Grantaire had forgotten where he placed his house-keys, and Courfeyrac found it under a table ini Cafe Musain. It was weird at first, except for Courfeyrac who grinned and exclaimed that he was indeed everyone’s sunshine, but now mostly they ignored it; nobody thought it was annoying (it was nice, actually, Eponine secretly tought). Nobody, except Enjolras.





	So Who You've Been Calling Baby? (Nobody Can Take My Place)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on that line in 5SOS' Youngblood! I have always wanted to write about that, and the first pairing that comes to mind is R and his Apollo. Please note that I haven't finished reading the brick and their personality may or may not based on my endless night spent with Enjoltaire fics; so if there's any inaccuracies please spare me ;w;  
> Also it's June 5th! My first Barricade Day and my first Enjoltaire fic; please enjoy :)

Grantaire had this habit to call everyone with thoughtless, endearing pet names. He would accidentally say “thank you, sweetie,” to Cosette when she lend her pencil; or “I love you so much, Courf, you are my sunshine and my life-saver,” when Grantaire had forgotten where he placed his house-keys, and Courfeyrac found it under a table ini Cafe Musain. It was weird at first, except for Courfeyrac who grinned and exclaimed that he was indeed everyone’s sunshine, but now mostly they ignored it; nobody thought it was annoying (it was nice, actually, Eponine secretly tought). Nobody, except Enjolras.

Nobody realised it, at first. Everyone thought it was just Enjolras being Enjolras; passionate speeches, his endless banter with Grantaire in the middle of the meeting, him sulking after Grantaire proved he was right after all, him burying himself beside Grantaire in the couch while thinking about the argument further, him letting Combeferre took over the meeting for something else that mattered. It was a pattern that everyone knew; a pattern when they were in one of the club’s meeting. But today they were not in one of their weekly meeting; yesterday they already discussed about their university’s bathroom policy and what would they do to make it better, and they had agreed at something at some point, and today they agreed to just hang out, no politics involved, no passionate speeches needed.

“Now, now, Courf,” Enjolras shouted from his place in the kitchen counter. “Have you done the lines for our flyer?”

Courfeyrac groaned from the couch. “Enj, we agreed to not talking about the meeting when we are in R’s house,”

“Technically this is _my_ house too,”

“Yes, but we _agreed_ ,” Courfeyrac sighed. “I’m halfway through it, tho.”

Enjolras heard various ‘shh’ and someone giggling from the couch, that someone sounded like Grantaire. “Come here, Apollo, and watch this weird documentary that Feuilly found.”

When Enjolras hurriedly came to his living room (his shared living room with Grantaire), he found his friends were snug between each other in the couch; Marius was on the carpeted floor with Cosette, and Bossuet, Joly, and Bahorel. Eponine leaned to Feuilly’s leg on the right side of the couch, beside her was Combeferre. That left Feuilly, Musichetta, Jehan, Courfeyrac and Grantaire on the couch, from right to left in that order. Enjolras didn’t know his couch can contain that many people. What caught his attention first was Courfeyrac; he was practically on top of Grantaire on the left side of the couch, Courf’s upper body leaned and invading Grantaire’s personal space while the rest of his body was on Jehan, whose eyes were glued to the flat screen.

“Hi, sweetcheeks,” Grantaire grinned from his place. “Done finishing anything you do back there?”

Enjolras glared so hard to Courfeyrac as if that would make him move away, but it didn’t work, so he sighed and opted to sit on the armchair on Grantaire’s side.

“What is it about?” he asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the serious mood. He reached to Grantaire’s hair and slipped his fingers between the black curls.

“Honestly I don’t know,” Grantaire leaned to Enjolras to whisper. “It began with the importance of bees but now it talks about ET.”

“Sounds interesting,” Enjolras hummed. He didn’t watch the show yet, though. His eyes trained to R.

“Really,” Grantaire laughed. “I don’t think it’s your genre?”

“I can watch whatever I want, R,”

“Yeah, but consider this—“

Jehan was about to shush them once more (because if Enjolras and Grantaire started to argue, it would be hour to finish) but he then saw, and pulled Courfeyrac closer to him, to made room for Enjolras, if it was possible. Grantaire heard Courfeyrac groaned but obeyed, nonetheless, so Enjolras had this small space between R and the armchair.

Grantaire, aware of this, smiled and said, “Thank you, muffin.” to Jehan.

Enjolras shoved himself to that small space.

The next time it happened, someone finally realised. It was Combeferre. It was only him, Courfeyrac, Enjolras, and Grantaire this time. Enjolras’ last class was done early, Grantaire might or might not accidentally passing by (he didn’t; Enjolras knew the Art building was three hallways away from Law building) and invited himself in. Since Combeferre and Courfeyrac were also in the same class with Enjolras, they always went home together.

Grantaire perched in one of the empty tables, waiting for his friends to wrap their things up, instead Courfeyrac’s coloured pens were still scattering upon his desk, his book opened, and the owner was arguing something with Enjolras instead. He didn’t mind, though.

“If Professor Lamarque is wrong, Enj, I don’t think the whole class wouldn’t notice,” Courf stated matter-of-factly. “Maybe you are wrong this time.”

“I don’t think so?” Enjolras replied quickly. He used his usual bantering tone with Grantaire. “When I debated him today, I literally quoted the book and—”

“Maybe you misunderstand the book?”

“I don’t think so?” Enjolras repeated. His voice rose slightly. “Unlike you, I read today’s topic last night—”

Grantaire was amused; Enjolras was arguing with someone else. This wasn’t rare, Enjolras would take any chance to argue with everyone, but

Grantaire couldn’t help but grinning to the sight. Unfortunately he wasn’t familiar with the topic.

“What are they talking about?” he asked Combeferre.

Combeferre sighed, but fondly. “Our lecturer stated something about one of the courtroom’s regulation and Enjolras, as you know, didn’t feel it’s right.”

“This won’t end until tomorrow,” Grantaire laughed. “I bet Enjolras is right, though.” He mostly said it just to spiced things up. He watched Courfeyrac frowned to him and pouted.

“You just said that just because you’re Enj’s boyfriend, R!”

“Oh, dear Courf, you know me so well,” Grantaire snickered.

Combeferre knew that Enjolras didn’t actually mad about Courfeyrac’s opinion, of course. It was just Enjolras being Enjolras. He knew Enjolras would sulk about this for a few minutes, but that would be all.

But, oh dear, Combeferre watched Enjolras’ expression hardened. He was frowning to Grantaire, and then to Courfeyrac. Those two were still debating about Grantaire’s bias (because who was Grantaire kidding, he would also take any chance to argue with everyone), and didn’t notice Enjolras’ sudden silence. Combeferre was slightly confused.

“Come on, guys, are we still going to that bookshop or not?” Enjolras suddenly grabbed Grantaire’s arm and dragged him towards the door. Grantaire yelped, but obeyed nonetheless. Courfeyrac gaped and then clumsily packed his things into his backpack.

“Did he really that mad to me?” he whispered to Combeferre after they exited the campus’ gate. Enjolras and Grantaire were in front of them, laughing about something Combeferre and Courfeyrac couldn’t hear, like a foolish couple they were.

“I don’t think so,” Combeferre replied slowly. “I don’t think it’s about that courtroom regulation at all.”

“Then wha—?”

“I’m not sure?” Combeferre watched how Enjolras linked his and Grantaire’s arm. “Let’s just go to this bookshop. I want to check some novels.”

“And Jehan’s poetry book!” Courf said excitedly. “He said it’s available already!”

Combeferre nodded. Enjolras slightly glanced backwards, checking whether his two friends were following him or not. He met Courfeyrac’s eyes, who gave him a finger gun, and turned his attention back to Grantaire.

Courfeyrac frowned at Combeferre, who already looked at him and sighed.

When Combeferre was sure what was actually happening, he didn’t really want to warn Grantaire about his harmless habit (because it was harmless! Combeferre got a headache because of this). But he watched his poor friends suddenly being targeted with Enjolras’ sudden temper one by one (Joly actually walked backwards to Bossuet and looked frightened), and so Grantaire found himself with Combeferre in his kitchen on one of their usual hang out night.

They were making drinks, specifically, just because Combeferre volunteered himself and picked Grantaire to help him (“Because he make the most delicious drink,” Combeferre had said, followed by Musichetta’s complaint “But I’m the one who actually bartending!” and Grantaire giggled). But they were just done thinking about what would they mixed, when Enjolras came to the kitchen. Combeferre facepalmed, mentally.

“What brings you here, Apollo?” Grantaire smirked, oblivious. “You don’t trust my mixing skill?”

“I just want to be here,” Enjolras said lightly. “Can’t I?”

“You are free to do whatever you want, cupcakes,” Grantaire opened the cabinet and picked the glasses for them all. He didn’t see Enjolras smile softly.

“And so I choose to be here.”

It seemed like Combeferre couldn’t do his plan tonight.

But it looked like Grantaire realised at some point. Today they were watching Let Me In, and Jehan had found the DVD for its original Sweden version. This time, they were only Enjolras and Grantaire in the sofa, somehow. Grantaire tucked his head to Enjolras’ neck comfortably while the latter buried his nose to Grantaire’s fluffy hair (it was almond scented, Enjolras loved it so much). When it was the scene where Eli revealed that she (she?) was a vampire and broke the poor man’s neck, Jehan gasped and grabbed anything close to him, which is, Grantaire’s leg, in reflect. The nasty sound of licking and sucking the blood made him squirm and held R’s right leg tighter. Grantaire patted Jehan’s head and talked mostly to himself, ‘poor Jehan’.

“Oh, come on, it wasn’t that scary,” Enjolras mumbled to Grantaire’s hair.

Grantaire raised his eyebrow and looked up to his boyfriend. Enjolras felt him moved.

“What?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Nothing.”

When Grantaire turned his attention back to the screen, Combeferre caught his eye. He wiggled his eyebrows and (Combeferre risked) moved his chin to point at Enjolras and back to Grantaire, and then he mouthed a word. Combeferre quickly went back to the flat screen. Grantaire wanted to laugh.

The film ended one hour later. After the credits rolled in, Eponine was the first one to rose up and stretched herself. She was mumbling about some essays and excused herself out, followed by Musichetta, and of course Joly and Bossuet followed her through. One by one, everyone said good night to each other and went back to their own house. Combeferre was the last one (he tried so hard to be the last one) and when Grantaire sent him to the door, he actually made face.

“I thought you never figured out,” Combeferre said lowly. He took his time wearing his shoes.

“It’s ridiculous.” Grantaire replied with a grin. “I don’t really think—”

“Oh, you should tested it out, then,”

Grantaire perked at that. “Maybe.”

Combeferre realised what he had said. “Not me, please—”

“Bye, Combeferre” Grantaire said excitedly. He made sure his voice was heard by Enjolras inside. “Good night, ducklings!”

Grantaire wanted to laugh when he heard Enjolras sprinting to the front door. Combeferre mouthed ‘I hate you’ right before Enjolras appeared.

“Why are you still here?” he accused.

Grantaire actually laughed this time ( _this shithead_ , Combeferre thought) but he wrapped his arm to Enjolras’ waist. “He’s out now, dear, don’t worry.”

“Yes, good night, you two.” Combeferre winced, his shoes finally right, and walked away.

“Good night, baby duck!” Grantaire thought he saw how Combeferre’s shoulder squirmed and laughed before he closed the front door. He glanced to Enjolras at his side, still frowning.

“What’s wrong?”

Enjolras didn’t say, of course. He started to walk back inside, but Grantaire’s arm was still in his waist.

“Please, tell me what’s wrong, dear?” Grantaire tried again. He couldn’t help the grin, really.

Enjolras stared at Grantaire, who mentally congratulate himself, and the frown grew deeper.

“That’s what’s wrong,” Enjolras said quietly.

Seeing Enjolras somewhat mad like this was a mood, Grantaire had to admit. He loved how Enjolras slightly pouting, his face reddening, and it was adorable. Really, truly adorable. Grantaire moved his hand. He slipped his palm to the back of Enjolras’ sweatpants and cupped the curve of his ass. Enjolras sighed at the gesture, but the frown was still there. Grantaire laughed, and carelessly planted kisses on the creases on his boyfriend’s forehead. He steered Enjolras back to the wall. This way, he could easily lifted Enjolras’ body.

Enjolras let out a surprised sound when Grantaire actually lifted him up. Their height gap was not that much; Grantaire was shorter, but he was also stronger. Enjolras’ arms immediately found their way circling Grantaire’s neck, using him as an anchor. Much to Grantaire’s delight, Enjolras looked down, flushing, their foreheads touching.

Grantaire was sure that Enjolras already forgave him because it was Enjolras who kissed first. He leaned down; his untied, long hair covered both his and Grantaire’s head like a silky yellow curtain. It was Enjolras who initiated the kiss, but after Grantaire kissed him back, he let himself be guided. He opened his mouth, sighing into the kiss. Because Grantaire’s hand were securely on Enjolras’ thighs, he could feel both hands clenched and unclenched every time he deepened the kiss.

It was hard, Enjolras thought, to not to be turned on when Grantaire bit Enjolras’ bottom lip and moved to plant wet kisses along his jawline. Enjolras craned his head to gave Grantaire better access. He let himself gave in to the tingling on his stomach when Grantaire licked and sucked his collarbone hard. That would bruise, but Enjolras didn’t care much.

Enjolras rested his head upon the wall, closed his eyes, his breath slightly laboured, and felt Grantaire’s hot breath around his neck. His body started to melt, his grip on Grantaire’s shoulder loosened. He felt his body shaking because Grantaire was giggling.

“What.” Enjolras said weakly.

“I like you enjoying my attention like this, love.” Grantaire ended the sentence with a kiss at the end of Enjolras’ jawline near his ear. At the endearment, Grantaire specifically kiss it longer.

“Mhm.”

Their lips met again; this ime Enjolras’ lips already parted from the silent moan earlier. His hand wandered to Grantaire’s hair, he lightly hung on to it so he wouldn’t fall. Of course he wouldn’t. Grantaire wouldn’t let him fall down.

“Can I finger you like this?” Grantaire whispered to Enjolras’ ear, all breathy and warm.

Enjolras’ answer was only a hitched breath when Grantaire nipped his ear, and a nod.

“Let’s go inside first,” Grantaire said, chuckled, and Enjolras realised that they were still behind their front door. Enjolras squiggled, trying to let himself down, but Grantaire didn’t let him.

“I can carry you,” he said, confident, and, oh, how rare he sounded that confident, Enjolras thought, so he just hold on Grantaire’s neck tight and inhaled the almond shampoo. He felt Grantaire laughing again, and then they moved.

“You wouldn’t let me fall, would you?”

“You already fall for me, sweet pudding.”

Enjolras hummed in agreement. He felt his back pressed to the wall again (their bedroom wall, he realised).

“You need to pull off your pants first,” Grantaire lowered Enjolras so he could stand up for a while. After ripping off his sweatpants and, of course, his underpants, Enjolras pulled Grantaire close and began to pull up Grantaire’s shirt.

“’ssnot fair,” he simply mumbled. Grantaire agreed, so he lifted his arm for taking off his shirt easier. He lifted Enjolras up again. This time there was nothing between Grantaire’s hand and Enjolras’ skin. Their bodies were warm from the snuggling earlier. It was nice.

As soon as he was lifted up, Enjolras chased Grantaire’s mouth and bit his lips, sending vibration to Grantaire’s body. Enjolras’ lips were soft and sweet like the mixed rum and watermelon juice they had been drinking earlier. Grantaire was more than happy to entertain Enjolras, but then he remembered something. He pulled himself from the kiss, but not too far, it was only for him to be able to state the sentence. His lips caressed Enjolras’ on every syllable.

Enjolas opened his eyes in confusion.

“The lube.” Grantaire said. Enjolras groaned.

It was on the rack behind their mirror, and so Grantaire moved once again for Enjolras to grab the tube. Grantaire could feel Enjolras’ impatience; he urged Grantaire to walk faster and then clumsily opened the mirror, grabbing the lube blindly. He also found a rubber band to tied his hair with.

Grantaire set him once again at the wall, “don’t fall, okay?” and at that, Enjolras clung his legs tighter to Grantaire’s waist. He took R’s right hand, kissed it first before slowly smeared the cool gel onto Grantaire’s fingers. Enjolras was eager, yes, but he took his time with that. Grantaire smiled crookedly.

“Done,” Enjolras whispered. He brought his lips to kiss Grantaire’s nose.

“Hold on tight,”

Enjolras squeaked when he felt Grantaire’s muscle moved under his hand. His grip on Grantaire’s shoulder tightened, and readied himself, because he was weak, weak, weak—

Enjolras felt the cool tip of Grantaire’s forefinger at the rim of himself, but R didn’t push his finger in. He only brushed it slowly, circling and teasing, and Enjolras shuddered. He liked the way it did funny things to his stomach; his head tipped back to the wall, eyes shut tight. Grantaire nosed Enjolras’ exposed neck, planting kisses as he went. But it was not enough.

“Please, R,” Enjolras whined after a while.

“Please what, sweetheart?” Grantaire responded with pushing his finger only very little, his short nail barely in. Enjolras inhaled sharply. He squiggled and pushed himself down just for the finger would push inside, but Grantaire knew that and he was quick to back with only rubbing.

“Please just fuck me,” Enjolras said, desperate. “Please, R—”

Grantaire changed his finger, and finally inserted his middle one, slowly. Despite of Enjolras’ eagerness, he was still very tight. Grantaire pushed the length of his finger inside, listening to every hitched sound Enjolras made. He pulled out just as slow, and careful.

Enjolras shuddered; he lunged forward and his body arched. He felt R’s cool finger inside him, working its way up and down deliberately. Enjolras started to grind his hips, made strangled noises in every moves. He needed more.

“Calm down, Apollo,” Grantaire breathed in his ear, as he inserted his second finger inside. Enjolras moaned. His nails were digging into Grantaire’s skin. He dropped his head to Grantaire’s shoulder and closed his eyes, feeling the steady rhythm of Grantaire’s fingers inside him.

“No, Enjolras, look at me.” Grantaire’s voice was sharp, and following that, he started to retract his fingers out. Enjolras gasped, he lifted his head and obeyed R to look at him, panting.

Enjolras met Grantaire’s eyes, full with wonder and admiration (and lust, Enjolras thought curiously), and Enjolras couldn’t help but captivated. Grantaire smiled, and he twisted his fingers inside. Enjolras huffed; he almost shut his eyes and melted in to the sensation, but he fought himself and kept his eyes open, his gaze at Grantaire’s all the time.

“Good.” Grantaire kissed him in reward. Enjolras sighed to the kiss; he sucked Grantaire’s upper lip, bit it and soothed it with his tongue immediately. His eyes closed during the kiss, and that wasn’t what Grantaire wanted. Grantaire pulled himself and Enjolras chased after him, eyes opened again. Grantaire raised his eyes, and he slid his third finger.

Enjolras’ hair was plastered to his sweaty forehead, strands of golden curls fell loose out of the rubber band, and Grantaire wanted badly to brushed it aside and tucked it behind Enjolras’ ear. But both of his hands were kind of occupied now, so he opted to brush the hair with his lips instead. It wasn’t effectively working, but Enjolras keened to the touch so Grantaire counted that as a win.

Enjolras brought his thumb to Grantaire’s mouth, and the latter licked and sucked it. Enjolras grazed his thumb across Grantaire’s tongue and teeth.

“Eyes on me, honey,” Grantaire said unclearly with Enjolras’ thumb still inside his mouth, this time more tender, and Enjolras only nodded weakly in respond. He dragged his thumb out, leaving a trail of saliva to where Enjolras went back to grab Grantaire’s shoulder.  
Grantaire increased the pace of his fingers, every blow was deep on his knuckles, watching Enjolras shuddered and whimpered in every thrust. Enjolras’ mouth gaped, he cried out small, incoherent babbles and his breath was unsteady. He felt dizzy, and his legs slid down from their place in Grantaire’s hips. He was close now.

Enjolras cried Grantaire’s name when he came (in a filthiest, sweetest voice Grantaire had ever listened) and he dropped his forehead at R’s for that he couldn’t maintain his gaze any longer. He kept his eyes opened, though, breathing hard on the very limited space between his face and Grantaire’s. Now it was mostly Grantaire who held Enjolras’ body in place; Enjolras’ own legs were limp, but still weakly glued to Grantaire’s hips.

“I can’t held you forever like this,” Grantaire said, his three fingers were still dangerously inside. He didn’t make any motion, but Enjolras began to rock himself again so it would make the slightest move. His eyes were so blue and wide, and its gaze were locked to Grantaire every time.  
Grantaire slid his fingers off, and Enjolras actually whined for the loss, but Grantaire kissed him immediately. He moved them to their bed with the rest of his energy.

“Now,” Grantaire tucked Enjolras’ hair behind his ear once they safely landed on their fluffy bed. Enjolras leaned to the touch. “We shall continue this way.”

And Enjolras sighed to their kiss dreamily.

But Grantaire knowing didn’t hinder him to stop calling his friends with endearment names. He called everyone but Enjolras ‘munchkin’ for a few days. It looked like Combeferre would still have a headache. By now, everyone was aware of Enjolras’ jealousy. (“That was why he snapped at me?” Joly gaped, and Courfeyrac’s forehead hit the table with a loud thud. “What the heck.” he muttered.) The next time it happened, Grantaire mostly used it to mess with his friends. And now that his friends were aware of this, he got a lot of accusing stare and death glare.

“Yes, m’dear muffin, I’ll have the same order as you,” Grantaire smiled innocently when they were at the Musain again, Feuilly glared to Grantaire as he walked slowly towards the bar. Grantaire felt Combeferre’s helpless gaze from his place three chairs away. (“Will I comeback alive?” Grantaire heard Feuilly said to Bossuet at the bar. “I will mourn you properly,” Bossuet replied solemnly.)

“You know, R, I love you dearly, but sometimes you are a little shit,” Eponine said and smiled, levelling him with the same innocent air.

“What have I done, Eponine, sweetie pie?”

Eponine just glared in return, not saying anything because Enjolras was right beside Grantaire, also glaring. He looked up from his furious typing on his laptop (only god knew what he was planning), “what has he done today?”

“Oh,” Eponine snorted. She was secretly relieved when Enjolras didn’t snap at her like he did to Joly. “Believe me, your man has done a lot of things.”

Enjolras just frowned, didn’t really understand what Eponine meant by that, and back to his laptop. Grantaire sent Eponine a fingergun, and the latter just scoffed.

But Grantaire was lost in his jolliness teasing his friends, so he didn’t realise how much damage he had done on Enjolras that night. (“He thanked me with ‘snookums’ what the actual fuck,” Eponine groaned to her hand, Cosette pat her on the back.) Enjolras left his seat unnoticed at some point; he went to the balcony, but nobody realised, even Grantaire. At the time Grantaire realised that _why the heck Enjolras was so quiet tonight?_ it was already a while.

(“Got you,” Eponine said in triumph when Grantaire excused himself in search of Enjolras. Combeferre shot him a pitying gaze like a true friend he was, but said nothing to defend him. Grantaire grinned at the thought that he was pissing Combeferre that much.)

“Hey,” Grantaire said, breathless, when he finally found Enjolras at the balcony.

Enjolras turned, his cheeks slightly paled from the cold air outside, and the wind brushed his untied hair. With the limited light from the lamppost, Enjolras looked gorgeous. The light illuminated his blond hair from behind, and thus when he turned to look at Grantaire, and smiled, Grantaire’s heart was helplessly hammering inside his ribcage.

“Hey yourself,” Enjolras greeted back, and turned his attention back to whatever occupied his eyes before Grantaire came, swaying his hair in process. Grantaire felt himself swooned along with the hair dance.

“What are you doing out here? It’s fucking cold.”

Enjolras shrugged. “That’s kind of the point.”

Grantaire leaned to the railing. “To what, froze to death? I hate to be that guy, but at this temperature your death will be slow and painful, and I may suggest you to fall down this balcony instead, but that wouldn’t do either since it’s only the first floor and it is not that high, so your death will be still slow and painful, and maybe not dead at all! Only few broken bones and twisted ankles. So, maybe not here, sweetheart. Not here, and not today.”

“You never really shut up, don’t you?”

“What can I say, I am wild.” Grantaire raised his eyebrows. “But, in all seriousness. What are you doing?”

Enjolras huffed. His cheeks pinked a bit. “It’s not important. It’s silly.”

“Oh, come on. I have seen all your absurdity up until this time, there’s nothing else to surprise me.” Grantaire grinned, propped his head with his hand to look at Enjolras properly. “Tell me?”

“Ugh, it’s just, I realised you have this habit to call everyone with ridiculous names like pudding and such,” Enjolras flushed down despite of the cold air. “And I kind of, I don’t know, mad?”

Much to Enjolras surprise, Grantaire didn’t laugh or mock him like he had thought. Instead he just beamed, grabbed Enjolras’ hand and kissed his palm, long and sweet, and moved it so Enjolras was cupping his cheek now.

“I know it’s ridiculous,” Enjolras continued. “And I’m mad at myself to mad at _that_. It’s very silly—”

“It’s called jealousy,” Grantaire said, still smiling.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

Enjolras just pouted in return, but he didn’t retract his hand. He didn’t realise that it was indeed cold; his hand was cold against Grantaire’s warm cheek. Enjolras could feel the short, growing stubble along the jaw line. He brushed his thumb, feeling the prickling hair under his skin. Grantaire leaned to the touch.

“Does it bother you that much?” Grantaire asked after a while.

Enjolras shook his head. “I don’t know. You have the right to call everyone with anything you like, though.”

“And you have the right to be selfish, though,” Grantaire smiled.

“Am I?”

Grantaire kissed Enjolras’ hand again, “I am entirely yours, Apollo.”

He still didn’t pull his hand away, but now Enjolras frowned. “I still don’t like this kind of statement. You are governed by yourself, even though you are my boyfriend, but still—”

“Oh, come on, Enj, you get the point, don’t you?”

Enjolras cast his glance aside. “I do.”

Grantaire’s smile widen, “So, next time please spare our friends, yeah? They have been suffering long enough under your glare. Just glare to me instead,”

Enjolras inched closer to Grantaire, now he was actually cold. “And how it could make any difference?”

“At least I appreciate your glare,” they were close enough now for Grantaire to smelt Enjolras’ scent underneath his favourite cologne. He grinned. “At least I won’t shied away and will kiss you on the spot instead.”

“Gross,” Enjolras chuckled.

Grantaire straightened himself and pecked Enjolras’ (cold) nose. “Then it’s too bad you stuck with me, pumpkin.”

Enjolras replied with another peck on Grantaire’s cheek and grinned. “Yeah, it’s very, very bad.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Barricade Day!  
> Also, rant with me at twitter and tumblr: flyingaltean :)


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